sirenspull_logs | Painting pictures with my mind

Entry tags:

Painting pictures with my mind

Who: Hinamori Momo (

plum_that_snaps) and Kuchiki Byakuya (

soul_scatter)
When: Tuesday, April 10, evening
Where: An art gallery in Sector 3
Summary: Two shinigami share their taste in art.
Warnings: None!

Hinamori flipped over the glossy, full color postcard announcing the opening of a new exhibition at a small art gallery catering to young, emerging artists in the Port. Exhibition open all day. Reception, 6-8pm. It looked like precisely the sort of thing she would like to go to. She liked art, perhaps more than she let on, and it was a chance to get out and see more of the city. It seemed like it would be a nice affair, cultured but not too high-brow or elitist.

She decided to wear some of the more casual clothes she had bought since arriving in the Port, figuring that her shinigami hakama would make her stand out far more than she wanted. As she came downstairs, she saw Captain Kuchiki at the kitchen table, buried in papers. She just looked at him for a while. He worked so hard. A little absent-mindedly, at times, but really dedicated to his work and his students. She admired that.

Hinamori approached him cautiously. "Captain... Kuchiki? I... don't know if you're interested, but I was going to go out and see this exhibition tonight. It's for a showing of up-and-coming artists in the Port, at a gallery over in Sector Three? I would be glad for some company, if you'd like to join me." She thought perhaps he could use a break from work, and she did always prefer spending time with others to being alone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Students were idiots. However, incinerating the papers wouldn't allow him to fail all of them in a fiery conflagration of self-righteous saving of Japanese poetry.

His eyebrow ticked at the rather interesting use of Japanese the student had used. Why? Why did they hate him so? First that fiasco on his birthday (which, thankfully, had been kept very quiet) then Valentine's, and now... this. Sighing, he thought about getting himself some more tea and was surprised there was still tea in his cup. Cold tea. Yuck.

Hinamori came into the kitchen, and he looked up when she began to speak. Art exhibition? A chance to clear his mind from - a glance down... "I would be honored." Because if he thought about what he'd just read, his brain would leak out his ears and run away. Possibly taking Senbonzakura with it, since the sword was putting in his opinion of the student's work.

Hinamori's eyes brightened just a little in surprise. She had honestly expected him to refuse, as busy as he seemed to be, but she was glad for the chance to spend some time with him in a more relaxed setting. And it would be good for the captain, too, to get up and get some fresh air, see the evening lights in the city.

"Wonderful! Shall I... wait for you to get ready?"

"It will only take me a moment." Byakuya just stood and went to his room. A quick wash and change of his shirt. He shrugged into a sport jacket and pulled on his scarf.

Stepping downstairs, he reached for his coat on the coat rack. He reached for a coat for Hinamori as well. "It is chilly this evening and will be colder once sirens sound." Wear a coat Hinamori. "Shall we?"

"Thank you." She accepted the coat and slid her arms into it one by one.

She patted her pocket to make sure she had a key to get back into the house, then opened the door. A gust of cold wind breezed in. Hinamori pulled her coat tighter around herself and started out.

Once they were out of the neighborhood, she figured it was an appropriate time to start going faster. Her shunpo would be hardly a match for his, she thought a little guiltily. Hinamori felt bad that he would probably have to keep pace with her, when he could easily have made much better time. But that was what it was, and she couldn't change it. Glancing behind to make eye contact and be sure he was ready, she led the way, since she was the one who knew how to get there, having studied the map copiously ahead of time to make sure she didn't get lost.

Byakuya kept up with her. It wasn't hard to do - not because he was faster, but because tonight, he was feeling rather lazy. No need to overexert himself. He should probably push himself harder, but he wasn't worried about it tonight.

When they arrived, he held open the door for her. Stepping inside, he pulled the scarf down from his mouth. "Where would you like to begin?"

"Ah, I... don't know," replied Hinamori, similarly unbuttoning her coat. She looked around at the well-decorated space, taking in the sight of it all. There were a few people here and there, but it was still early, and only a few quiet murmurs of discussion could be heard. That was good; Hinamori had worried it might be crowded and uncomfortable. One never knew with these sorts of things, whether they would popular or completely deserted. As it was, it was very pleasant.

She walked up to the information desk and took two of the brochures marked for the evening's exhibition. There were photos of all the artists, as well as short blurbs about their work and influences. She gave a friendly nod to the receptionist, and passed one of the brochures to Captain Kuchiki. "Over here, I suppose," she said, turning away from the desk and towards one of the walls of the gallery.

Byakuya looked through the brochure, following Hinamori. "I did not know you enjoyed art." Of course, he didn't know many things about other people's subordinates. Why should he? He had enough of his own to look after and a sister and a clan.

He stopped to look at a statue - statuary being something he was more interested in than paintings.

"I do!" Hinamori couldn't help smiling. "I think that colors... and beauty..." It was hard to put into words exactly what she felt. She had always enjoyed drawing for that very reason, for the ability to create, to take what was in her imagination and make it become real. And the ability to give what was in her imagination, and in her heart, away.

It was the same reason she enjoyed ikebana, the slow, meditative arranging of flowers into something that expressed the inexpressible. It was some way to make her feelings, which often ended up seeming merely irrational and silly when she tried to put them into words, visible. And sharable. She had picked up knitting, as well, for the same reason, to create something beautiful that would make someone else smile. But she had never been very good at any of them (though she never gave up, always making time to practice and slowly improve) since her shinigami duties would always come first in her priorities.

"Beauty is something that inspires people," she said finally. "It's a way of expressing what's in your heart. And you can learn so much about people by seeing what they put their heart into."

Byakuya glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He was surprised at her thoughts about it. Although, he probably shouldn't be.

"Indeed you can." Byakuya's words were soft, almost contemplative. There was a reason that he did calligraphy and ikebana. Though, he hadn't tried the ikebana for months. He should resume that.

"Though not only art can be used to judge someone's heart." He pointed it out, for the need to defend... well, himself.

She looked at him. "That's true," she said, "but... what do you mean?" She hoped it wasn't too personal or impolite a question. She turned back to the statue, thoughtfully.

Another glance out of the corner of his eye. He studied the sculpture, gathering his thoughts for a moment. "There is a saying. I do not know from where. In something I read perhaps. 'Observe in what manner he addresses his betters; lives amongst his equals; treats his inferiors.'" He'd read it somewhere, but he couldn't remember where.

"A person's heart is not only in what they create, but in how they care for what they did not." Byakuya turned from the sculpture and wandered toward a painting of cherry blossoms in the wind.

Hinamori paused, listening as he spoke. Her eyes were fixed in front of her, but her mind wasn't. She thought about what he said. It was the kind of thing one had to think about.

She stared at the floor, her brow wrinkled in... confusion, almost. There was a sadness to the way Captain Kuchiki spoke, but she didn't know where it came from. She felt it as she always felt others' pain, in a place deeper than words, than her own understanding. She wondered, for the first time since they'd been introduced years ago, what had happened to him. She looked down, trying to remember—had anyone ever told her about a tragedy in the Kuchiki family? Hinamori had never paid much attention to the news about the nobility. It had always been unimportant to her, a girl with no family from Rukongai.

She was broken out of her reverie when she looked around and realized he had moved on. A small squeak escaped her, then she shuffled to catch up with him. Hinamori looked curiously at the painting he had stopped in front of. "Ooh, this one's lovely. I've always loved cherry blossoms. Well, and all the other trees that blossom, too, I suppose! Spring is such a beautiful time of year, so much hope for the coming of sunshine, and promises of good things yet to come..."

Byakuya didn't expect her to understand, to know that his wife - the woman he'd defied everyone for - had also been a girl with no family from Rukongai. The familiar ache clenched his heart, but he showed nothing of it on his face. Why? Because what good would it do? What would it prove? That he had emotions? Anyone who doubted that he cared for everyone in his small circle didn't know him at all.

... And he'd still step up and save them from any threat in any way he could. Hinamori included.

"I have never cared for the spring." His wife had died in the spring. He'd sat, holding her hand and pleading in his heart, begging her not to go, to give him more time... and still, she'd left him behind, to carry on, to hold onto only the memory.

"However, sakura are my favorite." A mild joke to drag him out of such melancholy thoughts.

She side-eyed him questioningly. She didn't get the joke. But she turned back to the painting. "I really like the sense of movement in the trees. It's the one thing I've always had trouble capturing, movement." Hinamori meant in her drawing, though it could probably also be said of other things as well. She'd had to put a lot of work in, to learn the control necessary for the vice-captaincy tests, to learn patience and restraint in the face of dizzying and even overwhelming attacks.

She continued moving on, to a more abstract painting resembling a skull. Hinamori cocked her head, not knowing quite what to think of it. There was a certain artistry, not in the brushstrokes themselves, but in how the lack of brushstrokes and definition still managed to convey a particular feeling. It was what she liked about art, the ability to appreciate without having to put it into words.

If he knew she wanted to learn greater control, he'd offer to work with her. However, he followed her to the next painting, wanting to study it for a moment.

"The ability to capture that which your eye studies is the greatest accomplishment of an artist." Byakuya commented softly. "It is something I have never managed to accomplish."

"Perhaps," Hinamori replied. "Although I— I think sometimes it's more important to capture what can't be seen at all. Or, I— ah, to create it, I suppose. Something new, unseen before."

She smiled at him. "Although that's not any easier. It's a hard skill to master."

Byakuya let his eyes fall to a half-lid for a moment before answering. "All worthy skills, art perhaps most of all, are difficult to master."

Byakuya knew he wasn't an artist, not like some. But that didn't mean he didn't continue to try - for a given value of 'try' at ties.

She smiled a bit, at the hint of self-deprecation. She brought her hand up to her mouth, careful to hide the fact that she was trying to cover her amusement. She stared extra hard at the painting in front of her, not even blinking. It would be rude to laugh. Especially at a superior, in his presence. But she couldn't help thinking about his Wakame Ambassador. Even Kusajishi-chan, who normally liked cute things, thought it was weird.

"That is very true," Hinamori said once she had regained control of her voice. She just stood silently for a while, though her mind had already begun to wander. "Was it nice?" she asked suddenly. "Growing up as— as a noble?"

He could tell she was amused. At least, he could make her smile, even if she hid it from him behind her hand. That... no it didn't make up for what had been done to her, what they'd allowed to be done to her, but it helped. It really did.

The question surprised him. It took him a moment to recover his composure.

"It was..." Lonely, strict? "Solitary." That was the best he could describe it as. The only son of an only son, and he'd gained the clan at a young age, because his grandfather had been trying to save his life. Giving him something, anything, to give him duty because he would never shirk that. No matter how much he wished to join his wife in oblivion.

"Oh." She had thought about what it might be like, to have acres and acres of manicured lawn to run around on, to have servants to play with whenever you wished, to have long halls to run down and rooms full of sunlight and pretty things, but 'solitary' was not the word she would have used to describe it.

She had honestly been trying to talk about something happy. "I thought..." She looked a little frustrated with herself; embarrassed and bit angry that she might have caused him to remember painful things. "I thought it meant... you had a family."

Because that, more than the manicured lawns or pretty clothes, was what she had envied. Not that Granny and Hitsugaya-kun weren't enough; she wouldn't trade them for anything. But to have a mother, a father... it was something she had wanted. Still wanted, even if she knew it wasn't possible.

Byakuya moved on to the next painting, unable to answer for a moment. "My father died when I was young, as did my mother." How to explain things? "My grandfather was taichou and head of the clan."

Meaning he was often under the care of servants who weren't his family, and treated him with the distant respect that the only heir of the head of the clan deserved. He didn't know how to explain it. Unohana-taichou would understand, as would a few others.

"Those in Rukongai..." A pause as he tried to find the words. "Family is not always those that you are born to." Rukia.

Hinamori thought that perhaps... perhaps she was the idiot Hitsugaya-kun always called her. Perhaps she had been intolerably selfish, to feel sorry for herself. Not knowing her parents, always wondering who they might be, walking up and down streets looking at all the faces, thinking, "Maybe that's them..."

But to have them and then lose them... to have actually met them, even for a moment, and then to know that without a doubt, they were gone, to not even have the hope that someday they might magically appear and come for her... that was worse, surely? She felt ignorant. Stupid. Naive.

But at his last sentence, her heart warms. Her face turns up into a smile. Hitsugaya-kun. Granny. "Mm," she murmurs. She simply looks quietly at the painting in front of her, smiling, happily, not really looking at the painting so much as through it. She, at least, had not had a solitary childhood. Though her personality would have forced her to seek out company in almost any form; nonetheless she had been blessed, to have found such friends, such family as she had.

Byakuya didn't think her an idiot. He didn't talk much about his family, but then who would he talk to? All the ones he would talk to knew what had happened, and had been there - why should he talk to them? They understood why he was the way he was.

Others though? To some of them he would talk (but only certain details, and certain people would get more details than others ~~Renji~~) but they never asked and he was not one to simply open up randomly to those outside of his comfort zone.

"Sculpture or painting is your favorite?"

"Oh, ah, p— painting, I think. I've never paid a lot of attention to sculptures, I suppose." Except for Histugaya-kun's, and that was partly because they were his. She looked around the room for a sculpture, so she could check herself and see if that was fair. Perhaps she would reconsider her position, after taking a second look.

Painting? He glanced at her, with a ticked up eyebrow. "Hitsugaya-taichou sculpts." Yes, he knew. He remembered last year when the other taichou had made the sculptures.

"There is more in the next hall." He nodded in the correct direction, then drifted in that direction.

He stopped in front of an abstract sculpture that reminded him of the wind flowing through trees. "I would have thought you preferred the sculptures to paintings. Do you paint?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject